268 THE STORY OF THE TRAPPER 



Having found the tracks of the fox, the hunter sets 

 out his traps baited with fish or rabbit or a bird-head. 

 If the snow be powdery enough, and the trapper keen 

 in wild lore, he may even know what sort of a fox to 

 expect. In the depths of midwinter, the white Arctic 

 fox has a wool fur to his feet like a brahma chicken. 

 This leaves its mark in the fluffy snow. A ravenous 

 fellow he always is, this white fox of the hungry North, 

 bold from ignorance of man, but hard to distinguish 

 from the snow because of his spotless coat. The blue 

 fox being slightly smaller than the full-grown Arctic, 

 lopes along with shorter leaps by which the trapper 

 may know the quarry; but the blue fox is just as hard 

 to distinguish from the snow as his white brother. 

 The gray frost haze is almost the same shade as his 

 steel-blue coat; and when spring comes, blue fox is the 

 same colour as the tawny moss growth. Colour is blue 

 fox s defence. Consequently blue foxes show more 

 signs of age than white stubby ears frozen low, battle- 

 worn teeth, dulled claws. 



The chances are that the trapper will see the black 

 fox himself almost as soon as he sees his tracks; for the 

 sheeny coat that is black fox s beauty betrays him 

 above the snow. Bushy tail standing straight out, 

 every black hair bristling erect with life, the white tail- 

 tip flaunting a defiance, head up, ears alert, fore feet 

 cleaving the air with the swift ease of some airy bird 

 on he comes, jump jump jump more of a leap than 

 a lope, galloping like a wolf, altogether different from 

 the skulking run of little foxes, openly exulting in his 

 beauty and his strength and his speed! There is no 

 mistaking black fox. If the trapper does not see the 

 black fox scurrying over the snow, the tell-tale char- 



